It had been two weeks since King Darius and I shared a kiss, and two weeks since I last saw him. He had been busy. There seemed to be some kind of problem, seeing as the guards were constantly on edge.
After the night of the kiss, I had asked Amara and Jasmine about the marks on my shoulder, and they both screamed, asking how I got them. I giggled, recalling our conversation.
“How the f*****g hell did you get this?” Jasmine yelled while Amara had her mouth opened wide, staring down at the side of my neck.
“No cussing, Jasmine,” I reprimanded.
“Well, I’m sorry, not sorry,” she exclaimed. “There’s no way I could finish that sentence without letting out a cuss word, Elara.” She stated it in a matter-of-fact tone. “You have a freaky hickey on your neck, a freaky hickey. Look at poor Amara,
